These words are about the healing and growth I am undergoing and what that is bringing about in my life. Next post will be about how exactly the 31 days of Her Voice has intensified this process. Enjoy 🙂
Everything is different now that I get to have me, and
see through the eyes I was born with, no one else’s.
A world of invitation and delight orbits just outside my domain,
without whisper of exclusion.
Having me is eating and tasting food for the first time,
it’s looking in the mirror and knowing that I am that.
It’s dancing wildly without a thought for who is around,
it’s being with loved ones and then being completely alone.
It’s one boat leaving the dock and another pulling up alongside
It’s a journey I can’t un-take
Who is she?
This wild woman with Tarzan arms that have climbed trees in Puerto Rico, held children, cooked Indian curries,
shook hands, written essays, braided hair, drafted budgets, wrapped around the body they’re attached to.
The wild woman who holds herself and stands on no feet but her own.
Who creates spaces where others can breath, where long-dormant hearts can beat again.
Once you see you can’t unsee.
Once you feel you can’t unfeel.
There are magical children around me. Some are adults but most are young, not so long out of the womb that they have forgotten the Spark they sprang from.
When I ride in the car with these kids, climb rocks with them, blow bubbles with them, read books with them, something extraordinary happens.
Over time a space is created. I imagine wind drawing a circle between us, its gusts creating a vortex of safety, peace, love, and acceptance.
Some kids hear the whisper quicker than others but it is there for all: Everything you are has a place. And by sheer Heaven-wizardry that message brings out hearts and puts smiles on faces. It’s like camels just come to an oasis.
Hearts start to show like turtle heads peeking out from under shells. Words I can’t yet voice, about things I haven’t begun to comprehend,
do their life-giving work in this space. All that I feel I cannot do for the children starts to do its work.
With me, but also without me.
In me something is happening.
My interior is a wide expanse with hay that sways in the breeze rather than the barren land it once was.
As restoration roots within me it creates a sacred spin around me; rearranging the souls that I overlap with, gentle licks of ocean against sand.
I sense that it is less an hour glass and more the mysterious layer of cinnamon particles carried by winds that, over time, shape the sand dunes.
There is no sense to be made of what goes on in and around me. To put language to it is a fun, sometimes useful, challenge.
To enjoy it in all its delicious mystery is the only mandate. It’s more of an invitation.
Do you believe in an endless love?